A Sussex boyhood
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Her love (M.P.Bridger) Her love was a Heimlich manoeuvre on my heart, Forcing it into view for her inspection. Her eyes were barbed harpoons piercing my armour, Probing at the tender texture of my soul. Her voice was a soft vacuum sucking out my fears To be dissected with smug satisfaction on the bar. Her opinions were clenched fists punching mine Into silent defiance, retreating then to my corner. Her laugh was a prophecy of quarrels yet to come Which I would dodge with forewarned agility. Her kiss was a clamp tightening its hold on my spirit, Squeezing it into submissive mumblings. Her body was an instrument of torture Used to keep me on the edge of hope or rejection. Her mind was a Detective's notebook collating evidence With which to secure a conviction. Her passion was rationed out in small gasps, Brief hated moments of being out of control. Her sighs were sighs of relief that it passed quickly, Allowing her then to reaffirm her stranglehold on my mind. Our minds were two strangers on a train reading papers, Together but aloof. Communication stillborn. Her love was a sprinter dashing ahead Expecting me to follow. Her disappointment was a frown looking back As I slipped down the side alley of my destiny. Her love shrugged its shoulders and stood waiting For its next victim. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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